


December 13th: Gingerbread Man

by IneffableToreshi



Series: Good Omens Advent Calendar 2019 [14]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Advent Calendar, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxious Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Crowley, Ineffable Advent, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Light Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Scared Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21726676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableToreshi/pseuds/IneffableToreshi
Summary: This is Day 13 of my Good Omens Advent Calendar for 2019, in which Aziraphale makes a mistake and Crowley has a PTSD attack.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Advent Calendar 2019 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1550176
Comments: 15
Kudos: 163





	December 13th: Gingerbread Man

**Author's Note:**

> I, uh...I totally intended for this particular story to be fluffy dumb husbands fun, but somehow it took a sideways leap and turned into panic attacks and angst on me. o.o I must be in a mood or something. But at least there's lovely comfort! *cough cough* 
> 
> Happy Holidays everyone! I hope you enjoy my Good Omens Advent Calendar! Consider it my Christmas gift to the fandom! And if you want to give me a gift in return, please leave me a comment (I live for them!) and if you're really awesome check out my other stuff by going to my blog over at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com! <3

Crowley had only wandered back to his flat for a few hours. He'd gone there to water the plants and gotten caught up in giving them a stern talking-to about not getting complacent now that he was spending so much time away from them. Then he'd gotten distracted when he'd remembered a show he'd been meaning to catch, and finally he'd found himself in a stand-down with the first-floor tenant's cat, who'd never liked the demon and had decided to camp out in front of the elevator door just to antagonize him. 

The point was, it had been three, maybe four hours tops since he'd been away. 

And when he got back to the bookshop, he found it on fire. 

To be more accurate, he hadn't found  _ fire,  _ exactly, but he'd walked past the locked door, into the main area of the shop, smelled the smoke wafting down from the upstairs flat, and felt quite assuredly that he'd just strolled right back into his worst nightmare. 

He stopped breathing in conjunction with his heart stuttering to an absolute halt of operation in his chest. His body and everything in it went frigid at once and for one horrible, terribly long moment he couldn't think, nor move, nor contemplate the agonizing possibilities of what lay before him. 

Then he was up the stairs in a blink, a heart-wrenching cry ripping from his throat and a litany of pleas and bloody  _ prayers _ working their way out behind it. 

He burst into the little kitchen with a shout of his angel's name and found said angel staring back at him, wide-eyed, caught in the midst of waving a dish towel at a smouldering pan of something as black as coal. 

"Crowley?" Aziraphale stammered in his own shock. "Darling, what's wron-oof!"

The dish towel fell to the floor as the demon's body hit the angel's full-force, pulling them together into a desperate, almost painful embrace. A broken sob fell from the demon's lips. Long fingers buried themselves into the angel's waistcoat. Knees weak from relief nearly collapsed, prompting Aziraphale to catch Crowley in his arms and lower them both carefully down to the kitchen floor. 

Crowley's face was buried into Aziraphale's shoulders, but a bluster of hysterical whimpers wafted up to the angel's ear, and slowly but surely he was able to piece them together into a kind of awful understanding. 

"Oh, Crowley, oh my poor dear," the angel soothed, warm hands working against the demon's back and through his hair. His chest constricted with the little sobbing noises that came from beneath him. "I'm so sorry, my love. I didn't realize...I wasn't thinking… Oh lord, Crowley, I'm _so_ sorry."

Crowley's shoulders shook and trembled, and his fingers scrabbled erratically at Aziraphale's back as though terrified the angel would vanish beneath his touch at any moment. Aziraphale held the demon close with one hand and lovingly massaged his scalp with the other whilst whispering quiet comforts and gentle reassurances that all was quite alright, everything was just fine, all was as it should be.

It took some time, but eventually Crowley's pained sounds trailed away and his trembling settled. Aziraphale continued to stroke firm fingers through red hair until the demon was still, all but for deep, deliberate breaths. 

"Okay now, my love?" the angel asked, careful to keep his voice soft. 

There was a brief moment during which Crowley's fingers clenched into Aziraphale's clothes again, but then the demon's hands relaxed. His response was murmured against the angel's shoulder, where he refused to come up from. "Scared me…" came the little voice, barely a whimper. "Smelled smoke… Didn't know… Left you alone…" There was an upward inflection on the last word, and long arms squeezed more tightly around the angel's body. 

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that, my love," Aziraphale consoled. It wasn't clear whether he was speaking of the fire prior to Armageddon or the present misunderstanding. Perhaps it was both. "I'm so sorry… I didn't anticipate- Well, that doesn't matter." He nuzzled his cheek down against the top of his demon's head before turning to press a soft kiss there. "I'm just fine… There's no fire, nothing to worry about. We're both just fine…"

It seemed like a long time before Crowley moved, but Aziraphale awaited it with the patience of a saint. When the demon finally did shift it was to look up into his angel's eyes with something like shame. " 'M sorry too, angel," he mumbled. "Shouldn't've overreacted like that." He let out a sharp noise that was a bit like a laugh, but completely devoid of anything remotely like humor. "Some demon I am. Little smoke and I turn into a blubbering wreck."

Aziraphale moved his hand down from its nest of red hair to cup the demon's face in a firm but gentle grasp. "Don't you dare disparage yourself to me, Anthony J. Crowley," the angel demanded. "I'll not hear a word, and that's the end of that conversation." He caught the argument before it could spill from Crowley's lips by capturing said lips in a soft, warm promise of a kiss. When he pulled away Crowley delved in for another before closing his eyes and pressing their heads together with a deep, shuddering sigh. 

"What were you doing, anyway?" the demon eventually managed to ask. He opened his eyes just in time to see Aziraphale's cheeks go a lovely cotton-candy pink. 

"I, um…" the angel stumbled over his words. "That is, I was...I was trying to make...gingerbread men. The human way, I mean." He tried for a smile, but it was much more of an embarrassed grimace. "I either set the oven's temperature too high, or I left them in there too long. Possibly both."

Crowley stared at his angel, unsure whether to laugh or cry. Eventually he settled on laughing and did so with an exuberance that soon had Aziraphale joining in as they both clung to each other for dear life. 

Aziraphale ran affectionate fingers down the length of Crowley's jaw, heart full with the sight of the demon's smile. "Would you care to help me try again, my dearest?" he asked. "It's supposed to be a rather lovely recipe."

Crowley sighed - not a sound of exasperation or annoyance, but of relief and contentment. "Sure thing, angel. Just let me be in charge of the oven bits."


End file.
